Ironically
by Cat 2
Summary: When an old problem surfaces it's head it's not what you're thinking Steve has to try and save Tony, with help from one of Tony's exs. Warning Slash, references to eating disorders. Steve/Tony, Stark/Wayne
1. Chapter 1

Ironically, it was Steve who noticed first. Steve newly returned from the dead, who noticed that Tony was skipping more meals than normal. Steve who started coming down to the lab, or the workshop bearing sandwiches or other snacks.  
He ate them, mainly because it made Steve smile and relax slightly when he did.

And if to do that while achieving his goal, he had to visit the bathroom to heave it all up, it was worth.

*

Steve wasn't sure why he was here.

Partly it was because Nick Fury was his oldest friend, with the exception of Bucky, who he wasn't sure he knew any more.

Mainly it was because Nick was the only person who didn't have an axe to grind with Tony.

That didn't mean he had any idea how Fury could help him. To be honest he wasn't even sure what was wrong. Just that something was and that he needed a friend's advice about it.

He knocked heard the grizzled snarl of "come in." and obeyed.

Fury was sitting behind a mahogany desk that looked both out of place and completely natural amidst the high tec back drop of SHIELD. Cat sat balanced on the desk, regarding the files spread out over it. She smiled at Steve and he managed something that resembled a smile back.

He had known Cat for years, she had originally been one of the British Kid Commandos, but she had also been a SHIELD Agent, or more accurately SHIELD link to British Intelligence during both Maria Hill and Tony's tenure of directorship. Rumours around the avengers indicated that she had been less than happy with the situation, and would have resigned had her superiors not forbidden it.

"Cap." Nick Fury was smiling, the stub of an unlit cigar protruding from between his teeth. "What can I do for you?"

His glance ran over Cat, who got to her feet.

"I need to talk the bigwigs anyway." She said, sliding off the desk. Pausing by the door, she added, "The information you'll need is in the desk. Second drawer."

Then she was gone. Fury shook his head.

"I've got to find out how she's getting in here." He observed, quietly. Steve shrugged, sinking into the indicated chair. They sat in silence for a moment before Fury opened up the second drawer of his desk and withdrew a leaflet.

EATING DISORDERS the title proclaimed. And suddenly, for reasons he didn't understand, Steve felt relieved.

*

He's wearing the armour all the time now, not that anyone's noticed. He opens the helmet occasionally and that seems to satisfy most of them.

Logan remarked that he stank, and looked at him strangely for a moment, but it's nothing really. He made some explanation about a late night in the shop, and that seemed to satisfy Logan. He left him alone anyway.

He moves over to the table, wishing that the whirling noise in his head would stop.

*

He finished the pamphlet and breathed out.

On the one hand he's relieved to know that others share his concerns, even if they don't know how to approach them.

On the other, if the pamphlet is correct, and knowing Cat it almost certainly is, he's in bigger trouble than he thought.

The pamphlet advised seeking medical help if the condition had been there for more than some months, or if they weighed less than 85% of the expected weight for their height and age. Tony had been doing this at least since Steve came back, and that was nearly 6 months ago, and the evidence for his weigh been dangerously low was piling up.

Unfortunately getting Tony to accept that he needed help, as he knew from experience, was nearly impossible, until he hit the bottom.

He opened his mouth to ask for Fury's advice, but a knock on the door stops him. Fury's face went scarlet.

"Dam it, I gave definite instructions._"

Teresa stepped in.

"Sorry sir. But I have a priority one message for Captain America." Her face was grim. He hadn't seen her look so serious since the Winter Soldier incident. "Dr Pym asks if you can meet him at the Beth Israel. Now."

*

"Peter found him." Hank Pym was running to keep up with Steve's strides. "He just went to the lab to get something and found him lying on the floor." He shook his head, slightly. "They can't get the amour off. We've tried the override codes, but they're not…" he trailed off as they approached the room. A red and gold figure lay on the table, completely still.

"They're scared. I...they can't get any readings, or anything." He added, too quietly for anyone except possible Wolverine to hear. "They aren't even certain if he's alive currently."

The red and gold figure lay perfectly still amidst the white tiles and monitors. Steve moved rapidly towards him. The Doctor made like he wanted to object, but Fury held up his SHIELD card, and the protest died before it began. Steve ran his fingers over the armour, his breathing shallow and rapid.

"Armor overrides Steve Rogers," he said, the words hurting his throat. "Code 34-44-54-64."

It was the old code, prior to the civil war and Nick almost moved to tell Steve that. Then he realised that the armour was falling away, clattering to the floor. The medics swarmed past him, to do their jobs. Not, however before Nick had got a good look at the situation.

*

"It was bad?" Cat asked, taking a sip of her tea. Fury had no idea how she managed to drink it, as it had enough sugar in it to give any normal human cavities.

"I've seen concentration camp survivors with more flesh on them."

Cat winced.

"Sorry."  
"Not your fault." It was a wasted sentiment and they both acknowledged it.

"I knew there was something up, I didn't realise how bad it was." She said, shaking her head. Fury snorted.

"No one did. All still too mad at Stark."

Cat snorted. "I wasn't mad at him, until he started supported That Stupid Registration Act. And he got what he deserved for that." She shook her head, realising that they were about to go into a frequently repeated argument. "Anything I can do?"

Fury nodded. "Shrinks want to know how long this has been going on for."

Cat shrugged. "I noticed it at the second anniversary of Steve's death. Could have been going on for a while before. I'll check my tapes and send the details to them."

"Why not just give them the tapes?" asked Fury, with a grin.

"I don't think the world is ready for the Spiderman bedroom games." Cat laughing slightly. "I'll get them to you before my shift."

Fury shifted uncomfortably. "You might want to talk to the kid before you do that."

And it was mark of how serious he looked, that Cat didn't tell him that James wasn't a kid.

*

"что же, спрашивается?"

"Relax Natalia." Cat leaned back from the chair. "It's just me."

The Russian stepped into the computer room, blinking at flickering screens.

"I thought you would be with James." She said.

"Um." Cat said, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"Ah! You two had a fight."

"We did not have a fight!" Cat said, her eyes fixed upon the screen. "We had a free and frank exchange of opinions."

"Isn't that how Monty Python defined an argument?" Natalia said, sinking into a chair opposite. She paused for a moment. "I saw the costume is missing."

Cat's eyes remained fixed on the screen.

"You disapprove?"

Cat snorted. "Trust me. Putting on your mentor's robe is trouble."

"He didn't do too badly." Natasha felt obliged to defend the man who she had been partnered with.

"It's not the point." Cat sighed. "Steve's Steve. And James is James. They're different people. Now more than ever. It's...wrong." she sighed. "This is the first crisis Cap's faced since he got back. It's taking his confidence. It's..." she shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it!"

Natasha had known Cat long enough to recognise when she would be wasting her breath trying for an answer.  
"This for Fury?" she asked, casually running her eye down the list of names, several of which looked familiar.

"Kind of." She clicked a tab at the bottom of the screen. "Fury asked me to try and figure out how Long Tony had been-"

"Starving himself." Natasha suggested.

"Not eating." Cat confirmed. "As far as I can tell, it seems to have started here." A picture of the front page on the anniversary of Steve's death stared out at her. At the expression on Natasha's face, she nodded. "Yeah. My reaction." She clicked another tab. "this is from two weeks later." A still of Tony appeared on the screen. The face was pale, with huge bags under the ears. He was wearing a huge MIT sweatshirt and baggy trousers. "The shrinks say it's unlikely that this is the first time that Tony done this, and I agree with them." She swung around on her chair to face Natasha. "Jarvis denies any knowledge of Tony ever pulling something like this, and No one from your end knows anything. That pretty much leaves only one time unaccounted for. Tony's college years."

"So what's this?" Natasha asked, through she had a pretty good idea.

"List of all MIT graduates for three years before and after Tony." Cat said calmly. "I'm running it against Stark industries Christmas lists, which given the ease I had accessing the data, should have warned us something was up, and a list of patients at places that treated eating disorders during the same period."

"And supposing," Natasha couldn't help asking, "they used a false name."

Cat grinned. "Remember that program that Osborn designed? The one designed to recognise and indentify names based on the presumption that you never go too far from your real name?"

Natasha nodded. Cat continued.

"Figure it might as well do something to make up for all the harm it did."

Natasha nodded, and they sat in silence before the computer threw two names up at them. One of them Natasha recognised as Tiberius Stone. If it was him, they were screwed. The man might as well be dead. Cat however was smiling at the other.

"You ever been to Gotham?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_During the Civil War (sometime after Titans 47)_

_Cat's tip about Lukin had paid off in spades. It was nice to know that someone was doing their job._

_If she hadn't told him, the mission today would have been a disaster. The kid wanted to go after him, not that Fury blamed him. But now wasn't the time._

_It was however a good time to thank Cat and the simplest method Fury had found over a long friendship was with food, which was why he stood in the filthy corridor facing Cat's door. _

_Her small flat was in one of the worse areas of New York, surrounded by thieves and druggies. Yet Cat loved it and pointed out that her neighbours helped disencourage unwelcome guests. Fury only hoped he wasn't on that list._

_He knocked on the door. There was pause, too longer one, then he heard the bolts been drawn back._

"_Fury." She said firmly. "This isn't a good time." Her face was pale, and her fists were clenched. But there were none of the bruises he would have expected if she had been in a fight._

"_Your information was right on the ball. As usual." He held out the pizza box. Cat shrugged. _

"_Yeah. Well. Just doing my job." She attempted to close the door, but Fury jammed his foot in the door._

"_You and the kid have fight?" he asked. Cat moved slowly letting the door open._

_He can see into the apartment now. There's a kid lying on the day bed. Youngish, with black hair. A tattered scrap of black fabric, that looks a bit like a mask is on the kitchen table. Fury's been in the game long enough to recognise a kid passed out from pain. _

"_No." Cat said gently. "Just got a friend who needs help."_

_Fury nodded calmly. "O.k. Here." He handed the box over. Cat nodded her thanks._

It had been a long night. The Joker had broken out of Arkham, again, and three days of surveillance later they were no nearer catching him.

On top of that, there was someone new in town, robbing banks while calling himself Mr Money. His costume consisted of a (probably homemade) mask with a dollar sign on it. Robin had nearly been shot by him, he was laughing so hard.

All he wanted to do was to get up stairs and sleep for about a month. But Bruce Wayne had a ten o'clock tomorrow, so he'd have to do with about three hours, four if he was lucky...

A small sound of a foot broke through his revelry. Instinctively, he dropped into an attack position.

"Now, Really Mr Wayne." The owner of the voice stepped out from behind a consol. "there is no need for any unpleasantness."

She was tall for a woman, with dark hair cut short and green eyes. Next to her, stood Jason Todd, with a smirk on his face.

"Agent Cat. SHIELD."

It must have been the exhaustion that made him ask, "SHIELD?"

"Strategic Hazard Intervention, Espionage Logistics Directorate." Jason supplied.

The lack of sleep must be addling his brains, or maybe it was the presence of his middle child back in the Cave, barely five yards from his memorial, as he said "Cute."

"I'll pass on your compliments." She followed his glance to the way he came in.

"We came in quite legitimately, Mr. Wayne. Via the front door."

She moved across to the chair.  
"I'm not here for a fight Mr. Wayne. What you do on your own time, is your business."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm here because I need a favor."

The brown eyes never left Jason. The young man laughed.

"I told you it was a waste of time me coming with you." He addressed the woman. "He doesn't believe you."

Cat sighed. "As I told you, Mr. Wayne, I have no interest in your private life. However, I will reassure you that Alfred is fine."

"As is the Replacement." Jason added.

"You are welcome to go upstairs and check on either of them." Cat continued, as though Jason hadn't spoken. "But I would prefer that you didn't as time is of the essence."

"I don't work for the government," Batman snarled, pushing past her.

"I'm not here for any government, Mr Wayne. At least... not directly."

As he headed up the stairs, she called after him.

"I'm here for Antony Starks."

In spite of his best efforts, he froze.  
"I believe you know him."

A memory came, fighting its way to the surface.

_He was exhausted. It's hard playing a part. It's harder playing two._

_Alan Greeves was an exchange student from...he's so tired; he can't even remember what he told the professor. He's got curly brown hair that springs in a halo effect around his head. His eyes are blue, but you can't tell that behind glasses that are about two inches thick. He stands out from the students here, as he wore jeans and waistcoat with a bold checked shirt. For all that, He's bright. So bright that old Housecroft nearly offered him a scholarship. That would have been...interesting._

"_Hello Bruce." A voice comes softly from the darkness. He spins around, to see Tony Stark lounging on his chair, watching him with an amused expression on his face._

"_What do you want Stark?" He asked. _

_Tony Stark, in most people's opinion is an irritating little fly. He's nearly five years younger than everyone else on campus, and seems to breeze through the course with no effort. Add to that the Stark family name, and its connections both with money and the Defence Force, the kid had few friends. Except that Tiberius Stone, who Bruce frankly found creepy._

"_Or should I say howdy Alan?" Tony continued his face unmoving._

_Kentucky. That was where he had said Alan was from._

"_I don't know what you're talking about Kid!" he snarled in response._

"_Oh Really?" Tony said, very deliberately not moving "you said that Kentucky was a major manufacture for the defence force, 'specially for the Navy."_

_He can't help it, he bites,_

"_So?"_

"_So, Kentucky is landlocked." Tony said, with a triumphant smile on his face. He gets to his feet, now, nearly as tall as Bruce. "But in Gotham, and Wayne Enterprises, they do a lot of work for the Navy." The smile was bewitching as he added. "You're just lucky that Housecroft failed geography."_

"_What are you going to do?" he asked softly. If Tony went to the dean, he was sure he could pass it off as a prank. Might require a fairly sizeable donation to the administrators and a lecture from Leslie, but it could be done._

"_Nothing." Tony replies, sinking back into the chair. "Just curious as to why."_

"Knew him." Batman's voice was still there, through Bruce Wayne was fighting to get through. "We haven't spoken in a while."  
"I know." The woman's voice was urgent, "He needs your help."

"If it's about his drinking," Batman began, but Cat interrupted. "It's not." She sighed, evidently unhappy with the situation. "He needs same help you gave him back then."

There was silence, before Bruce Wayne answered, "Give me a minute to pack."

Cat smiled. "I think Alfred may have already done so for you."

*

Natasha was worried.

Firstly they had landed in Gotham, which was formally on Nick Fury's list of "f*cked up Places you don't visit unless it's an absolute emergency and even then never alone."

Then Cat had left her in the craft, with strict instruction not to leave.

Then just as the sun was coming up, Cat had arrived, with three men and a boy, and ordered them to leave.

She allowed her eyes to wander over to their passengers, as they entered normal cruising speed.

The one nearest to them was an old man, dressed in a smart suit. There was something in the way he had moved as he climbed aboard that suggested that he was a former agent.

Opposite the old man sat another, approximately her own age. He was dark and, yes, that was only word for it, _brooding._ He hadn't said a word or even looked in her direction since they got on board, just sat there in an imitation of the Thinker.

The boy, seventeen at a maximum, had stumbled on board, and fallen asleep as soon as he sat down. Cat had muttered a curse and got up to check on the seatbelt. Natasha had looked surprised, but Cat had shrugged.

"We've both done it." She said.

The fourth passenger was the only one she had a name for. Cat had called him Jason. He lounged back in the seat, the only relaxed person in the crate. And yet...there was something in his relax manner that made her think of Cat or Bucky.

Slowly, she moved her eyes back to Cat.

"There's some rough weather ahead, you might want to keep an eye on the instruments." She seemed aware of Natasha's unease. "What's up?"

Slowly, Natasha spoke. "_**Who are these people**__?"_

"_**You should be careful**_." Cat said, softly. "_**Alfred was one of us, and speaks Russian fluently.**_"

"_**And the others**__?"_

Cat shrugged.

Natasha repeated her question_._

"_**Alfred is an old friend. Jason is a friend. Tim is Bruce's son. And Bruce...**__"_

"_**Yes**__?" _Natasha asked.

Cat turned to face her,_ "__**Bruce is my hail Mary pass**__."_

_*_

_It was soon after the incident with __Sunset Bain that he noticed it._

_They're lying on the bed in Bruce's room, studying. Or that's what they would claim; even through the books had long since fallen off the bed._

_Tony lies beneath him. His hands are everywhere. The man is a slut for touch, more so than anyone Bruce had ever met._

_He reaches up, undoing the buttons of Tony's off white grease stained shirt, and eased it off, revealing the fine lines of the clavicle. He thought it was just his imagination that they felt sharper than usual, but as his hands ran down the chest he realized he was wrong._

_He pulls back, to get a good look at Tony. There are huge dark circles around his eyes; his skin's pallor is harsh. That's not makes him stare through. Even now, He thinks that if he had tried he could have count every one of Tony's ribs._

_Tony realizes that he's under scrutiny, and pulls away, buttoning up shirt, apologizing. Saying that he knows his body is disgusting._

_Bruce isn't stupid. He's not a child genius like Tony, but he is a detective and half an hour added to his usual midnight raids on the library furnish him with all the information he needs._

_He's heard of eating disorders, who hasn't? But he's always associated them with girls and to be fair most of the literature he finds deals with them in females. There is however a note made in most that 10% of sufferers are male._

_It's a couple of weeks later, having not seen Tony that he runs, almost literally into Tiberius Stone._

_It's more out of desperation than anything else, that he invites him for a drink and comes away feeling like he's done ten rounds in the ring. For all that, for all the junk he dealt with, he learns some facts. That Tiberius has also noticed the amount of weight Tony's lost, and that he's heard Tony making himself sick a couple of times. He also agrees that Tony needs help; through he warns Bruce that he'll never accept it._

_That night, Tony doesn't have a choice. He'd been raiding Langley Hall, just managed to get out before the security guard caught him, and he was making his way back across campus._

_It's as he nears the engineering labs, that he notices the lights on, and remembers Tiberius mentioning that Tony had been spending most of his time in there. _

_The windows are child play to gemmy open. _

_Tony's lying in the middle of one of the labs, a long cut running along from his shoulder down almost to his wrist. _

_It's not deep, but it is jagged._

_Two hours later and twenty stitches for Tony, he admits to himself the truth. If he doesn't say something now, if he doesn't interfere, he's going to lose the closest thing to a friend he's got on campus._

_He gave the doctors the name Wayne Thompson, and told them that he and Tony were brothers. He isn't sure they believe it, but they let him into Tony's room without any problems._

_Tony looks so small and so fragile, lying there on the bed, that he's tempted to leave it. To tackle this when he's stronger. Then he remembers that if he doesn't tackle this now, Tony may not get stronger._

_Sinking into the chair next to the bed, he turns to look at him._

"_Why?" he asks, his voice unnaturally deep. "Why, Tony?"_

_The blue eyes stared desperately up at him, like a wounded animal, pleading with him not to try. But he had too. 'Cos that's what a hero did._

"_Why Tony?"  
_"Fasten your seatbelts."

Agent Cat's voice pulled him from the past with an unpleasant jerk.

"Huh?" he managed, realizing that it's now light and that the sky line coming rapidly up to meet them, is definitely not Gotham.

"I say Fasten your seatbelts." Cat replied, her eyes never leaving her instruments. "Looks like we're in for a rough landing."

He did as he was told, tired fingers almost fumbling over the straps.

Suddenly what appeared to be a huge dinosaur! Flew at the craft, missing them by inches. Neither of the pilots appeared concerned.

"Guess they save some for us." The red head observed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Post Secret Invasion, During Iron man Most wanted.__ Pre Battle for the Cowl._

"_Get off the grid and stay off." Those had been Flashman's words, before he cut the line. It was a mark of how screwed up she was that she didn't even ask for how long. Just grabbed her processions and set off._

_They kept playing it on the radios, on the TVs in the bus stations, even on the streets. Even in her nightmares, she'd never thought it would be as bad as this._

_Eventually she stopped using public transport or taxi, and just stuck to the roads, despite the fact it was raining. _

_She hardly noticed how cold, how tired and how wet she was as she looked up at the sign. Only 53 miles to go._

_Gotham had long been viewed as a good place to vanish. Virtually trapped in its own world despite been in New Jersey, a fact that was brought home to her as she got closer and closer to the city. The Main story on the newsstands she pasted or on the broadcasts she overheard wasn't Tony Stark, but the probably death of Batman. She sighed as she reached the outskirts and surveyed the skyline. Gotham always looked like nothing had changed, no matter how much time had elapsed._

_*_

_The first time she'd come to Gotham, had been a while ago._

_Saying she was a mess at that point was a dangerous understatement. She'd just come back from Korea, and had no idea what would happen to her next. She'd just needed a place to think, to consider her options._

_Unfortunately, that wasn't what she'd got. _

_The second time had started a lifelong friendship, but she hadn't been in a much better state. _

_Tony had been her friend during the War. A Street kid like her, he'd returned to America and made his fortune, though you were probably best not asking how._

_He'd reinvested a lot of that money into shelters for kids, and it was an unwritten rule that any of his old buddies who needed a place to crash were welcome there. _

_Unfortunately, no one had told Father Samuel, who ran the one in Gotham. He had informed her that it was "boys from a troubled background ONLY!" before throwing her out._

_Thankfully, the old man was one of the few in Gotham who still left the church door unlocked. Gotham was a scary place, especially if you were on your own._

_It's about midnight that she heard the sounds. Soft footsteps, someone with enough caution to move lightly, but lacking in experience. _

_She moved softly, so that she was hidden behind the screen. A kid, maybe seven or eight. Dark hair, though it was hard to tell how much of that was due to dirt, as the kid was filthy. _

_She watched slowly as he headed for the communion box. A part of her wants to sigh. It may be a brave new world, but that doesn't mean anything's changed._

_What was it Tony always said? "Face change, Bruises don't." Unless someone takes the first step. _

_Carefully, so as not to spook the kid, she stepped out._

"_I've got some sandwiches that taste better than that." She said, softly extending her hand. "Cat."_

_There was a pause, and up close she could see bruises, on the tops of the arms, on the face. Bruises that told their own story._

"_Jason Todd." The child said, eventually taking hers._

_*_

_She didn't consciously realise it, but her feet were taking her back there. Back to church in a strange city where a chance meeting spawned a friendship._

_She wasn't sure if it was just her mood, but Gotham seemed dark, even by its standards, which was saying something. The situation with SHIELD had required her attention so much, that she hadn't had a chance to keep an eye on Gotham and with Gotham effectively declared by SHIELD as "hopeless", an honour few African dictatorships managed to achieve no one else was._

_Her hand pushed at the lion mouth knocker on the door. Still unlocked in spite of everything. Slowly, she stepped in._

_In the darkness, she could just make out a figure hunched in one of the pews._

_She knew that scent._

"_Jason?" she asked, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the church. "Jason?"_

_And despite both their dislikes of hugs and people touching them in general, she gathered up the former Robin her arms. _

_For the first time that night, she was glad for the weather. Because when it was raining, you could pretend that was the reason your cheeks were wet._

_***_

"Took your time getting here!" Wolverine yelled, as Cat brought the plane down.

"Stopped to get ice cream!" Cat grinned, as she jumped from the plane, with an easy smile born of years of experience. "What we got here?"

Wolverine pulled a face, as he sent a claw through what looked like a tentacle. "Space phantoms."

He glanced at the figures that emerged from craft behind her.

"Whose your friends?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. There was a guy dressed completely in black, a kid in red and green and a young man in black and red. The guy in black and the kid both wore capes.

Cat winced. "Long story."

She jumped up, her smaller claws emerging silently from the tips of her fingers, to send one of the phantoms into its ionic form.

**

"So what are these?" the kid looked so tired and at the same time so ridiculous, that Carol Danvers wasn't sure whether she should laugh or tell him to go to bed. Then again, she thought, as she grabbed at what looked like Wolverine's claws, but was too blunt to be, as Cat had pointed out on more than one occasion, she was running around in a bathing suit, so in no position to talk.

"Space phantoms!" She paused wondering how much to explain this child, relieved for the first time that Steve wasn't with them. He would have had something to say about this. "They're servants of Immortus, Master of time. He traps people in Limbo and due to the nature of that place, they forget who they are and become this." She sent another punch into the space phantom Wolverine.

"A bunch of Runts?"

"Watch it, Kid." The real Wolverine snorted, sending a punch into his doppelganger.

"Ms Marvel. Get back." Cat yelled. "SHIELD's got a lock on. Going to blast anything with energy in the zone, and I am not going to rescue you from the Negative zone again."

"Should I be offended?" Carol asked, but obeying the instructions.

"Like Lubyuanka, once is more than enough." Cat touched her communicator. "Clear!"

A huge flash of light engulfed the area, and then suddenly nothing was there, just heroes standing around in their costumes.

"What the...?" Robin asked, confused. Cat blinked.

"Space Phantoms are made of energy. They have no memories of their past life; they're kinda like energy Zombies. SHIELD'll hold them; try to stop more of them getting through."

She paused for a moment, checking that the black hooded figure was out of sight.  
"Excuse me; I have to get our guests to the hospital."

***

Steve kept watching the television screen. When the alert had first come in, it had taken all of his strength not to rush out of the hospital room, and indeed Tony had encouraged him to go. But he had taken one look at the figure at the bed, looking so small and helpless, and had decided against it.

Even back when he was just sixteen, Bucky had proved himself a capable field leader. He could handle this.

***

Cat had persuaded the Avengers to take Tim Drake-Wayne and Alfred back with them. She would be going straight to her apartment from the hospital and would take Jason with her. Bruce and Cap could either spend the night there or get back under their own steam.

She would have been the first to admit, if anyone asked her that it was the coward's way out.

If the rumours about Leslie Thompson and Jarvis were true, and even if they weren't, she did not want to be around when Alfred and Jarvis met.

Add to that the lecture she could already hear, from Cap on the subject of sidekicks, which was inevitably going to happen when he was introduced to Robin, and would become a thousand times worse with Jason added, she was relieved that she could hide out. Though knowing Fury, that wouldn't happen.

The journey to the hospital was better than she thought. Bucky had volunteered to come with her, and He willingly sat in the back with Bruce, while Jason sat in the front with her. For all that, however no one spoke and she was glad when having shown the guard at the gate her SHIELD ID and entered the building. Bucky waited in the car, apparently not trusting himself where Stark was concerned.

Fury was waiting for them. She wasn't surprised; she had known him too long for that. He didn't say anything; merely fell in step beside her, letting her know that he wouldn't press her now, but that he wanted a full explanation later.

The hospital had a whole floor set aside for Avenger use, and she could see the surprised expressions on the Gothamites faces at some of the more unusual requirements. Really, if you dealt with those capable of setting everything within a ten mile radius on fire every time they sneezed, an oxygen removal tent was simply a sensible precaution.

Tony wasn't on the main ward though. Extremis, coupled with the normal rules regarding those viewed as a risk to themselves, meant that he was in a private room just off at the end. As they approached, Cat could see a familiar shape through the door.

"Has he actually slept?" She asked Fury in an undertone, who shrugged, before pushing open the door.

"You got visitors, Stark."

***

Steve glanced up from his one sided conversation, at Fury's growl.

The one eyed grizzled veteran was there, with Cat standing at his side. There was another man with them, dark hair and dark eyes. Tony appeared to recognise him.

"Hello Bruce." He said, softly, his voice harsh from lack of use. Dimly, as though from a great distance he could hear Cat suggesting that they got some coffee and left these two to get reacquainted.

***

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of him." Cat said, as they sat in the hospital cafeteria. A young man, introduce very briefly as Jason, had been dispatched to get coffee, while they gathered around the table. "The press brings it up almost every time Wayne Industries are in the news and they brought it up in spades a couple of years ago."

At the look on Steve's face, she blushed slightly. "Sorry." She shook herself. "Short version a tragedy. Wealthy couple, leaving the movies with their son, gunned down in front of him." she sighed. "The longer version is a bit more complicated. Dr. Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha are leaving the movies along with their eight year old son, Bruce. They enter Park Alley, setting in motion a chain of events that will lead to the renaming of the street Crime Alley. Out of the darkness come two shots. When witnesses get to the scene, they find the kid kneeling in his parent's blood surrounded pearls."

Steve interrupted. "When did this happen?"  
Cat frowned. "For some reason, I want to say 1940, even though I know it's wrong."  
"That was the date of the film." Fury volunteered, his eyes never leaving Cat. "The 1940's Mask of Zorro. Happened about 20 or 30 years ago."

Cat nodded. "No one knows what really happened there, or why the kid was spared. Various versions I heard have been a robbery gone wrong, deliberate assassination, even heard one where it was claimed that Martha Wayne was unfaithful and her husband hired a hit man." She shrugged. "Maybe the guy just blanched at killing a kid or maybe he was disturbed before he finished the job. No one knows and it doesn't really matter. Either way the Waynes were dead and Gotham sunk deeper into corruption. The kid is brought up by the butler and a Dr. Thompson and vanishes off the radar for a while." She took a sip of her tea, winced and added another packet of sugar. "Then about 20 years ago things change in Gotham. It acquires its own protector, Batman, the Dark Knight. About the same time Bruce Wayne returns from parts unknown." She met Steve's eyes. "I'll let you draw your own inferences from that." She shrugged. "Things have been pretty much constant since that. Bruce Wayne is a wealthy philanthropist and father to three boys. Dick Grayson,"

Steve smiled. "Think I've heard a great deal about him from Peter."

"Jason, who you just met and Tim Drake, who should be sleeping at the mansion about now."

Steve nodded slowly.  
"And you think he can help Tony?" he asked, trying not to let his disbelief slip into his voice. Cat shrugged. "He's done so before." She slid a file across the table. Fury got to his feet.

"Where's that Kid got to?"

Cat grinned, also rising.

"Probably on the point of collapse from Exhaustion. I'll head off. You make sure Steve and Bruce get back alright?"

Fury waited until he was sure that they were out of Steve's hearing before asking.

"You wanna give me the extended version." At Cat's expression, he sighed. "Come on kid, don't fence with me. The guy's a cape. It's evident that you've got some connection with that kid, and the brief interaction I saw suggests that neither of you like him very much."

Cat sighed, slumping against the wall.

"It's complicated." She said. Fury grinned.

"Nice try."

Cat shrugged. "It is though. You remember Tony?"

"Andolini, the Italian kid?"  
"Italian American." Cat corrected him. "I met Jason when he was about 6 at one of the shelter's he set up." She sighed. "The story was pretty typical. Dad left when kid was three, Mum had a series of boyfriends, most of them abusive." She paused. "When I met him, the worse one had just appeared. Kid basically decided that the streets were safer than his home." She lifted her eyes to look at Fury. "Makes you wonder what we fought for huh?"

Fury didn't think there was anything he cloud say to that. Cat had been born in a brothel in the slums of Liverpool in 1929. Mother a prostitute, father unknown. She had been fending for herself since she was 4 or 5. When she was ten, her mutant powers manifested when either her mother's pimp, or boyfriend Fury wasn't quite sure which, tried to rape her. Since then she had served her country both in Britain and abroad. But that didn't mean she'd forgotten her roots.

"Looks like things turned out O.K." he ventured uncertainly. For all he knew this guy could have been part of the problem. Cat snorted.  
"Kid's almost as messed up as I am." She drew a deep breath. "got taken in by Bruce Wayne, killed by his biological mother, resurrected by means unknown, beaten by his brothers, flung around the multiverse, and generally treated like a piece of dog's meat by the world." The anger was in her voice. She stopped for a moment, and breathed deeply.

"Make sure Steve gets home." She said, with a fake calmness in her voice, as she headed off to find Jason.

***

Bruce had never been good at talking. He had believed since he could remember that actions spoke louder than words. But this was something that actions couldn't sort out.

He sunk down into the chair beside the bed and stared at Tony.

"You know you could have called." Bruce Wayne tried to joke. "You didn't have to try to kill yourself to get me to visit."

Tony's eyes stared dull and unfocused at him.

"Why?" He asked, gently.

Tony blinked.

"I screwed up." He said softly. "I screwed over The Avengers, I screwed over Steve. They all hate me."

Bruce wanted to argue that it wasn't true, but with what Barbra had told him about the last few years here, and the look that Cat had flung in their general direction he wasn't sure.

"But it'll be alright," there was fever light in Tony's eyes. "Everything'll be O.k. Just another twenty pounds to go." His eyelids were drooping as he added. "Then everything'll be perfect."

Looking at the skeleton with skin stretched over it, that had once been his friend, both Bruce Wayne and Batman felt afraid.


	4. Chapter 4

O.K. I have a break between exams, so I'm going to post.

Notes on Characters: Davey is also known as the Human Top, one of the Kid Commandoes and later of V Battalion. Full information on all of these can be found on Wikipedia (click for pages ). Information on Spitfire can be found here.

I blame the conversation with Dr Dundee on a comment left on lj user="pervygirl" fic "No matter how dark the night", which suggested the possibility of a Bruce with OCD in another world. I did some research on it, to see if it was possible he suffered from it in cannon. I found Obsessive Compulsive Personality disorder. I leave it up to you as to how well this fits. The scene between Tony and Ms Marvel, I admit is borrowed from the "Mask in the Iron man". It's in Tony's Hallucination, in there. I thought it was a great scene and very close to the truth, so I made it real.

I hope if people like this, they will let me know.

Previous chapter here

Chapter 4

There was something wrong about the kitchen, Carol thought as she spread the New York Times over the table.

At first glance, everything appeared fine, table laid for breakfast, Jarvis at the stove, cooking, even a pot of hot chocolate in a silver pot standing on a tray by the table. But something was missing.

Just like with the Avengers, she thought, switching on the coffee machine, even though she couldn't stand the stuff.

"Thought you didn't like coffee." A voice at her elbow made her turn. Cat stood there in full SHIELD Uniform.

"What are you doing here?" Carol asked, avoiding the question. Cat shrugged.

"Fury's still mad at me after yesterday. So while Sharon's out of action I am the official liaise with the Avengers and their guests."

Carol smiled. "Fury's getting soft in his old age."

"More a case of lack of agents." Cat replied, pouring herself some hot chocolate. "Stomach flu's all over SHIELD, barely got enough agents for a single shift." She took a sip. "Reminds me, are our guests up yet?"

Carol shook her head. "Kid literally fell asleep as soon as he sat down in the Quinjet. I basically carried him upstairs and he never stirred." She poured herself a mug before continuing. "It seemed a shame to wake him, so I just let him sleep. And Cap and the other guy weren't back till nearly midnight. Steve hasn't even got up yet for his morning run." She stared down at her mug, as through it contained not chocolate granular, but tea. "I'm going to visit Tony later on."

Cat nodded. "That would be a good idea," she said slowly, her face grave, "as my brilliant plan appears to have a slight hitch-"

The sound of a voice raised in anger echoed through the house.

* * *

"Thanks for this," Cat said, carefully handing the bag over to Davey. "I was hoping to talk to Cap before he found out, but I over looked his habit of reading every paper in the English world."

"And the Gotham Times, this morning carried a report on the activities of Batman and Robin on its front page." Davey finished softly, shaking his head. Cat nodded.

"Believe me, the full lecture on the subject of sidekicks is bad enough, but when Rhodey and Peter decided to wade in..." she shook her head. "I had to protect the innocents."

Davey nodded. "As I said on the phone, we're running a training session with the kids. Couple more or less isn't really going to make a great deal of difference."

He watched as the two boys, both dark haired climbed out of the flying car. He wandered if it was his imagination or if the smallest one really looked that green. It was only with a jerk that he realized that Cat was still talking.

"Taken them with me, but with the stomach flu on the Helicarrier, the last thing we need is it been passed on the Avengers." She might have said more, but the beeper on her belt went off. She glanced at it and grimaced.  
"Duty calls."

"Sure." Davey agreed. "Hey Cat." She turned in her seat, as she started up the engine. "The Avengers. We heard about Tony... are you guys O.K.?"

The momentary pause confirmed his suspicions of a lie. "Yeah." Cat said, firmly. "We're fine."

* * *

"I'm not a specialist in eating disorders." Dr. Dundee had said this on the phone and twice since they had entered his office, but Samson still nodded.

"Neither am I. But Tony Stark is my patient and your name was on the forms, so I was hoping..."

"That I could give you some insight into what caused it." Dundee sighed. "As I said, I'm not a specialist in eating disorder, my actual specials is Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. I took Stark on as a favor to another patient."

"Bruce Wayne." Samson guessed.

Dundee smiled. "You know I can't tell you that. All I will say is that as the records indicate I was given a false name. Stark had been seen by the staff physiarist at the hospital and was starting to eat more normally. I will give you my opinion that he checked himself out before he was ready, but that was his right and so on."

"Tony can be a difficult patient." Samson said, smiling dryly.

Dundee made no response.

"What was the diagnosis?" Samson asked, though he'd read the reports.

"Anorexia nervosa" Dundee replied. "I won't bore you with the details, but suffices to say we had evidence that he'd been either avoiding food or purging for a little under a year when it was detected."

He paused at Samson's expression.

"I take it, it has been happening for longer this time?"

"At least two years." He paused, uncertain how to phrase the question. "Doctor I hate to ask this, but during the time you were treating Stark did you observe any evidence of...self harm?" he trailed off weakly. The only evidence he had for his theory was the word of a woman committed for her own safety, and a Skrull, but he was fairly certain he was right.

"Not necessarily." Dundee wandered over and surveyed the view that his window supplied. "I know that I noticed scratches, or cuts on Stark's fist a couple of times that I was at a loss to explain. Stark claimed accidents, and B... the patient who recommend him, clammed up more than usual when questioned." He looked uncomfortable. Samson was fairly sure he didn't look much better.

"I'm aware a sufferer is never fully cured," Samson said, slowly, "but was Tony in remission?"

The expression on Dundee's face became fierce.

"In my professional opinion no. The disorder itself was in remission, but the underlying issues remained unsolved." He sighed. "I admit I allowed myself to be influenced by personal feelings, a mistake I made twice. Bru... my patient's symptoms were reduced by their relationship. And I let my past with his father blind me to the fact that he needed help."

He turned back to face Samson, "I hope you can do what I could not and help them both."

Samson didn't think that he could say anything.

* * *

This was ridiculous.

He was trapped in a room about the size of the bathroom at Stark towers. The ensuite bathroom had a lock on it, so he had to call a nurse if he wanted to use it, then he/she stood and watched while he did his business, to make sure he didn't make himself sick.

Like the expression on Steve's face wasn't motive enough.

And everyone kept telling him it was for his own good! They keep talking to him, trying to get through to him. He overheard Samson and the staff phyarist talking. Words like suicidal, irrational, depressed kept floating around. He wasn't even sure he cared anymore.

They couldn't understand. He had accepted that a long time ago.

Who knew that Extremis added so much weight? It had been after he got Extremis that things started to go downhill, so if he could get himself back to the weight he was before Extremis, then things had to start getting better, they just had too.

He lost the weight he gained while on the run and Steve had come back. Maybe if he worked hard enough he could get Happy back soon.

He nodded to himself. The lock didn't look that difficult, and Tony Stark had built his first suit of amour in a cave from scrap metal.

Carefully he pushed the covers away and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The whirring was back in his ears, but he ignored it.

Glancing around to check that the nurses were too busy with other patients and weren't likely to look in, He placed his feet on the floor and force himself to his feet.

Instantly the world span, and the next thing he knew, he was looking at the pebble dashed pattern on the floor. He groaned.

This was ridiculous. HE was so weak, so pathetic that he couldn't even stand without-

"Need a hand big guy?" there was a black glove under his arm, and blonde hairs, too long for Steve trailing across his face.

"Carol?" he muttered, trying to focus.

"At your service." As though he weighed nothing more than a new born kitten, Carol lifted him and placed him back on the bed.

"Don't try doing that without help huh?" she said, pushing the call button slightly.

"What are you doing here?" Carol blinked at the expressionless, hopeless voice that was talking to her. "Did you just come to mock me, to rub my face in it?"

"What?" Carol's face displayed genuine horror and surprise. "No Tony. I just wanted to return the favor. You were there for me when I was struggling with the bottle. It took some time, but you helped me see thought he pain of my own ego. With you as my sponsor…I'm sober now because of you."

"Well I'm really happy for you."

Why was he doing this? Carol was his friend, one of those who'd stood by him when no one else would,

And you screwed her over a voice in the back of his head reminded him.

"Now. GO AWAY! Go on; get your little Ms Marvel kiester out of here! I don't want anyone seeing me this way!"

Least of all Steve.

"What gives you the right to think you of all people could help me?"

Carol fought to control her temper, but it was no use.

"What gives me the right? What gives me the right? Tony I'm your friend for crying out loud! What do you mean all those speeches, all those lectures were just you talking out of the side of your mouth? What was it, Tony? A sympathy thing? Was I just few good points on your karmic wheel? I thought you cared!"

She had to stop. If she didn't, she'd say something she'd regret. She turned rapidly and began walking away.

"No, Carol. It wasn't… it isn't like the…"

"I've got to go, Stark!" she pushed past the nurse, trying not to hear the cry that came after her.

"Carol."

* * *

"There, there darlin'." There were times when Wolverine regretted his decision to join the Avengers. Supporting Carol, while she sobbed on his shoulder and resisting the desire to go and beat up Stark was one of them.

"I just… I can't believe…" she hiccupped. Wolverine breathed in her scent, a mixture of pomegranates from her shampoo, unstable molecules of her costume and the underlying scent of Carol Danver. He fought to remember what it smelt like without tears.

"It ain't Stark talking to you."

"You'd… better not be suggesting…that …that Tony's…" she couldn't finish.

"No, but it's the same basic principle." Logan ran his hands through his hair, wandering how to condense nearly sixty years of observation into some comforting words. "After a while, what he's doing, it gets addictive, as much as drugs or alcohol. And as deadly, 'haps even more so." He paused, slowly. "You can't help them, 'less they wanna be helped. All you can do is be there for them."

Carol sniffed, and nodded, getting control of herself.

"Thanks Logan." She paused, at the sound of footsteps in the corridor. "I'd best go…"

She paused by the door.

"Logan, I'm sorry, but I have to ask did you…?"

"Never gone down that route darlin'." Logan's voice was soft, but it seemed to betray the owner's age unintentionally. "Just lost some friends to it."

* * *

It was easy to tell which one Cat had trained, Davey thought, watching the kids train under Spitfire.

The moves he used were similar to Bucky's and his own, but the passion bubbling beneath the surface was so similar to Cat's that a couple of times he had to make sure that it wasn't the church hall in 1939 with himself not his grandson attempting to beat the street child.

An attempt that was made all the more difficult when he realized that Darren had managed to pin Jason. He watched, grateful for the passage of the years, as Jason's struggles became less controlled, more desperate as Darren's grip tightened.

He winced, spotting before his grandson, the knee that desperately came up and more by luck than design made contact with one of its possible targets. Darren double up, rolling off Jason without a moment's thought. Jason rolled too, but instinctively, into an attack position.

His breathing was rapid and his eyes darted around the room as though daring the others to attack him. None of them did so.

"O.k." Spitfire said, slowly, taking in the situation. "Let's call it a day huh?"

The others nodded, slowly, leaving the room. Jason left last of all, with a brief glance at Darren who still lay on the floor.

"Could be worse," Davey observed, helping his grandson to his feet. "When I did that to Cat, she spat in my eye before kicking me in the balls."

* * *

Bruce Wayne was the rudest, the most arrogant man that Steve Rogers had ever had the misfortune to meet.

He had given the man a quite reasonable explanation of why using children as sidekicks was a bad plan and the man had just refused to listen.

Things had got heated fairly rapidly after that. He wasn't entirely sure what had been said but it had ended with Cat, slightly unceremoniously, thrusting him out of the door of the Avenger's mansion and telling him to run over to the hospital to see Tony.

It hadn't been a bad idea. What with one thing and another, he'd missed his morning runs since Tony was admitted and the morning sunshine was good. He closed his eyes and tried to erase the image of Tony looking like the skeletal figures he rescued from the Nazi death camps from his mind.

Logically he accepted that there was nothing he could do about it, that Tony had to make the decision to get well on his own but emotionally he couldn't accept that.

So he was going to be there and talk to Tony. Pretty much, he was the first to admit, in the same manner he used when Tony was comatose or similar, in the hope that on some level some of what he was saying would reach him and snap him out of this.

He was so lost in his thoughts; he didn't notice that he had hit a road...

TBC


End file.
